The Other American
by mistamie
Summary: When a lab secretly gets shut down for trying to clone nations, Alfred starts acting strange. England smells something is up.  Will he set things to rights before It is too late? USUK
1. Chapter 1

**M'kay, I know it is like, suicide, to have two stories running at once, but this one is dear in my heart, having been the first multi-chapter one I ever wrote that was successfully finished. I only typed this chapter, and that as five months ago, but I have brought it from the backstreets of my DA account, edited it, and here you have it.**

**Reviews be helpful. Tell me what you think.**

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><p>Alfred smiled across the table at Arthur, taking a sip of his hot coffee, watching Arthur's expression sour at the sight of it.<p>

"I can't believe you can swallow that filth," The Englishman said, a smile slipping reluctantly onto his face back at Alfred, and sitting back to sip his tea. He enjoyed their little beverage exchanges, even if it was a bit late to be drinking caffeinated coffee. He laughed softly, thinking of how America wouldn't get much sleep tonight from the caffeine.

"It helps keep me alert! Heroes need to be up and alert at all times!" Alfred gave Arthur one of those goofy smiles, waving his index finger in the air, his eyes sweeping up and down the rows of chairs and tables.

"Yes, because coffee shops are such dangerous places, with bad guys waiting around every corner." the Brit rolled his eyes, but his smile didn't disappear.

They finished their drinks and walked out onto the streets of Washington. The American said his goodbyes to England and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"I'll see you tomorrow at the meeting. Don't be late!"

"I would say the same, seeing as you would be one to be late in his own house." he punched the younger nation lightly on the shoulder, and after one last hug, they both started in two different directions, Arthur to his hotel, and Alfred to the white house.

Alfred walked quickly back towards his office, hoping he'd be able to get some things done before he went to home to bed. Damn, he forgot to clarify with Arthur when they were going to the baseball game next week before Arthur flew out. That could wait till tomorrow, though.

He easily got past the guards who knew well enough now not to stop him. God, took that new one, Tom, three weeks to figure out who Al was and that he didn't have to ask for his ID _every damn time!_ He made his way to a side door and headed down the carpeted hallway to the oval office to check back in with the President.

He flopped down on one of the couches noisily, but the president simply finished what he was doing before he looked up. This one sure had gotten used to him fast, some of his past bosses had never gotten used to his curious over-the-shoulder snooping or unannounced arrivals and departures.

Pushing a bill to the side, the President looked up at last. Congress could wait for the moment. What he had to say was very important.

"Al, I gave the order yesterday morning. They were shut down, and the keys to the lab were confiscated. Does Arth-"

"No, he doesn't know that I almost allowed some crackpot organization to clone me." America's face darkened as he thought of how close that one had been, how dangerously close.

The president sighed, knowing how touchy Al was on the subject of lab 401. "They were privately run. We couldn't have stopped them any sooner. And you know they had good intentions when it started up. It was going to be about robotics originally, before the lab changed hands."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, how they first had wanted DNA samples, and when the white house staff had inquired as to why they wanted this, they said they just wanted to 'help me work' and 'let me have some down time', but cloning me and creating a race of super nation-people clones? How awful could that get, sending a bunch of unstable pseudo-nations to wreak havoc on America? What if they decided to clone others? What if they asked from someone who didn't care to read the fine print, like Italy? What if the info had got stolen? We could have just have prevented WWIII!" He took off Texas and rubbed his tired eyes. He hadn't slept well the past week. How could you, when a group of insane scientists were asking you for a DNA sample? How had they even gotten the funding?

His thoughts were interrupted as the President started to look back at his Bill, and he looked back up from the floor.

"You realize that you too were all for it before you found out that it wasn't robots they were thinking of anymore? Are you worried that anyone could take your place? You will always be America, if I can help it. Now get some sleep, you look exhausted." And with that, the subject was over, closed, and he, dismissed.

"I'm gonna go get the conference room ready before I go to bed. Last time I saw it, it was a mess. I guess, though, until they repair the regular conference room in the United Nations, it will have to do. Still can't believe how someone could rip out an entire wall like that, and over who got to sit by who." A smile faintly painted his face, and he put Texas back on and got up and walked out.

He walked down the hall to the conference room in the dark hallway. Boy, it was getting kinda late, but could he at least have a little light? Where was that new technology called electricity when you needed it?

He opened the door to the conference room and stepped in, and flicked the light switch. Nothing. Dammit. Could he never have a reliable source of light? He'd have to check the light bulb later, possibly the fuse box, but he really just wanted to go home, and possibly to bed, even though he'd just had a cup of brown caffeine.

He walked around the room, righting chairs and piling stuff into the corner. He picked up a heavy box with ease when he heard the door close behind him. He dropped the box, and spun around. He wasn't afraid of the dark, no, not at all, and he wasn't afraid about the whole door thing, either, no, no. All sorts of horror books, TV programs and films streamed through his mind, all of which the outcomes didn't end well for the people in them.

He heard footsteps behind him. He was about to turn when he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head, and then, blackness.

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><p><strong>ok, so there you have it. hehe, I first wrote this as a developing yaoi fangirl, so at first, before the edit, Alfred only kisses England on the cheek, and now, everywhere, even at concerts, I ship people. "oo, the drummer and lead singer!". back then, I was a "romance yaoi girl" or shonen-ai, whatever thing. Now I'm "YEAH! TO THE BEDROOM WITH YOU TWO! HONHONHON!" *le lurk*<strong>

**Fun Fact: There are three hotels in England that has a personal bedwarmer for you, which means a human in an outfit of white fleecy-ness lays under the covers to warm them for you, then gets out when you go to bed. Disturbing, isn't it?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapa two... I-a own-a nut-in'.**

**REVIEWS BE LOVE! Thanks to : Jet Set Radio Yoyo and Obsession and Insanity for reviewing last chapter!**

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><p>Alfred opened his eyes to a blinding light, his eyes stinging along with the pain in the back of his head.<p>

He looked around himself with narrowed eyes, and realized the reason why everything was so bright was because everything in the room was white. He noticed a bed and a door. Now realizing he was tied to a chair near the wall, his hands banded together with plastic ties along with his feet. Ok, so that made a bed, a chair a door, no windows, and…a man in a lab coat, who now turned to face him, a cheery smile on his face.

"Ah, Alfred, I see you are awake!"

"Where am I? Who the HELL ARE YOU?" Alfred glared at the man, struggling against his constraints, the plastic ties chaffing his wrists. The man simply chuckled.

"Alfred, there is someone I'd like you to meet." The man walked to the door, and opened it, and down the hall, there were a set of footsteps. As the person came into the doorway, Alfred felt all the blood drain from his face.

"What the HELL? You-! You-?"

There in the doorway, wearing _his_ bomber jacket, was a reflection of himself, Nantucket there, blue eyes, everything. Even his clothes, the button-up with slacks, the most he was ever dressed up for work in. Then he noticed the glasses.

The man seemed to notice this as well, taking the pair he had on, off, and stepped closer to Alfred.

"Ahh, there's Texas." That voice…everything about this…imposter, was just like himself, down to the littlest detail. His hair cut the same way, the way he held himself, his speech pattern. He then realized that his glasses were being pulled off his face. These glasses he'd treasured ever since he'd annexed Texas, back in the 1800's. Instinct caused him to strike out, biting down onto the clone's hand, tasting a copper like twinge in his mouth.

The hand was withdrawn, and through the blur of his poor, non-aided eyesight, saw the clone cradling his hand.

"Shit! THAT BASTARD BROKE THE SKIN!" And with that, there was a hard punch to his gut, causing Alfred to wheeze, all the air in his lungs knocked out. The clone had his strength as well.

His head was yanked upwards by a sharp tug on his hair, and a pair of glasses were slammed on his face. They weren't Texas, and as he looked up, he saw the other America wrapping his hand with some bandages a nurse had rushed in with, now looking completely calm once more. He saluted them, then turned around and left, Alfred feeling the need to shout profanities after him.

He finally turned back to the man in the lab coat, glaring daggers, and the man simply laughed.

"So, what did you think of America? You really are a creature of habit, you go to the same coffee shop everyday. We got your DNA off one of your coffee cups a couple of weeks ago, and after a few misfires, we seemed to have created a successful clone. He has the memories of your history, and he's only a little unstable, prone to rages like the one you just experienced. The first clone, god, now that was a real nut job! You see, America is an almost finished product, and once we fully balance his body chemistry, he'll be close to perfect. Too bad your scars aren't part of your DNA, we'll have to add them later, in the next clone, now that we can have more readily available samples, and a model to go off of. Right now, though, America is good enough. We'll replace him when we develop something better, but he's ready for the meeting."

Alfred processed the words "unstable" "clone" and "meeting" and quickly added "Arthur" to the end of it. His face now white as a sheet, he began to try and knock his chair over to struggle out of it, only to find it bolted down to the floor, along with every other piece in the room.

"Alfred, mentally insane people have their chairs bolted down, you should know that! Anyway, this is one of the best insane asylums in West Virginia, also one of the most discreet and obscure. Important families hide their failures and screw-ups here. Hardly anyone even knows this place exists, and the staff here, they are very confidential."

"Why are you-? Why are you doing this?" Alfred finally asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Your relationship with that Englishman, it is an abomination, and it clouds your judgment. What if we weren't allies with the United Kingdom, what if we turned into enemies? Where would your loyalties lie?

"To solve his problem, I have created an America without the bias of relationships, or that was what we tried to achieve. We were at least able to remove the memories, which were not important as a country, and helped him create distaste for Britain. After a few other tweaks, we essentially created a living, breathing _country._ He has no other life than America, so that he will do the job much better than you, who spilt your resources between America and _Alfred._" The man pulled from his pocket a small walkie-talkie, and smiled. "And now I can show you how a real _country_ is run."

He pressed down the red call button, and a woman's voice answered.

"Ma'am, please escort patient 677 down to the viewing room. He's to be controlled, yes." He listened to her reply. "Also, this one is very off his rocker, don't believe a word he says." He laughed at her reply before continuing. "Yeah, they all are real nutcases."

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><p>"Ok hun, we're going to the TV room to watch something, ok?" Alfred glared up at her, wondering why she was asking if this was ok. What, if he said no, would they dump him back in his room and leave him alone to look for a way out? Not after they'd all tackled and pinned him down to force him into the straight jacket he was now in, and strapped to the wheel chair which was heading into the unknown, pushed by the annoying woman above him. What kind of video were they going to make him watch? Videos on history? "Correctional" videos? Propaganda? Crazy people TV shows?<p>

He was dragged kicking from the wheelchair and strapped to another one of those metal chairs bolted to the floor. Then they forced his head back onto the hard pillow of the chair back, tying it there. Then they all left, and it was just him and the immense television before him.

A thought ran through his head about whether this was a lie, and there was like, a gun behind the television, and it was all a plot to convince the staff to dump in him here so they could secretly dispose of him afterwards. Then, he remembered the comment about them needing him for more samples and as a model for _America's _missing scars.

As the TV before him lit up, he watched as everything came into focus before him, the colors becoming brighter, the lines sharper. That explained why when Texas had been taken from him, he'd been given a new pair. He wondered just what they wanted him to see.

"I'd like a Big Mac, please, and a large cola." The voice was his own, coming from another's body, he realized, seeing as he watched _America _read the newspaper, and molested that wonderful looking burger in that disgusting mouth of his, the view Alfred had being that of _America's _eyes. A few tweaks indeed.

_America_ threw out his wrappers and newspaper, and got up and headed out of the fast food establishment, heading in a familiar direction. As his clone walked up tot eh gate of the white house, the doors opened without question, leaving the real Alfred swearing at his own stupidity for allowing the leniency of the guards due to his own inconvenience hating nature. Then again, his wallet was gone with all his identification anyway.

He watched as the enemy walked down the ever sacred halls of the White House when he stopped in front of a set of doors, voices coming from inside.

That was when it hit Alfred, really and truly, how serious and real this was. He watched as _America_ pushed open the door, the pain in his heart increasing by the moment.

_A wolf in sheep's skin…_

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><p><strong>Fun Fact: In Ancient Rome, 13 of the population were slaves, and some slaves even had slaves to serve them. Most were men, due to many being prisoners from war, and to many women being freed due to low birthrates that plagued Rome, so they would birth free children.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Guess who's an Ass? MOI! I was in Philadelphia for 2 1/2 days... Mütter Museum rocks! The COLON! oh, and the history! Soo much history! I had a histo-gasm. And the food was amazing! And then I got home yesterday at about 3, and would have had this chapter out about 5, but what did I do? I wrote 500 words, then thought "Youtube break!" watched 1 video, saw that the anime in it was a yoai anime called Sekai-ichi Hatsukoi, looked it up, then spent over seven hours watching the anime and reading all the manga. Takano, you sexy seme! ...the anime is T, and the manga is M.**

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><p>Arthur looked up from a heated argument with a certain Frenchman to see Alfred walk into the meeting, his own meeting in his own damn office, late. He watched as Alfred sat down in a seat across the table, and saw him run one of his hands through his messy wheat hair. It made his American look sexy, well, sexier than he already was, although Arthur would be the last one to admit that, and Arthur was immediately turned on, but held that back to scold Alfred.<p>

"So glad you could join us Alfred, I thought you were going to sleep the meeting away again, like you did a few months ago." Arthur chided as he sent Alfred a look that had a hidden look of affection in it.

Alfred opened up a folder that Arthur hadn't seen him bring in, pulling out papers and utensils, and glanced over where Arthur sat, and replied without emotion "I had stopped to pick something up this morning when I was held up, but I couldn't come on an empty stomach. It's not like we ever do anything at these meetings anyway." Arthur didn't know what to say to the honest answer, and simply put it aside as Alfred flashed everyone an obnoxious grin. "I plan to change that, let's get this show on the road!"

The meeting started, and Germany stood up to give his speech on alternative energy, and Arthur tried to catch Alfred's eye like they usually did in meetings to keep from going insane in the boring speeches that would go on and on. Sometimes, Alfred would send him a wink, warning him that he was up to something, and Arthur would see his hands reaching for something to throw, or signaling Gilbert or Denmark, if he'd planned it ahead of time. This time, when Arthur looked, Alfred was watching Germany intently, his pen moving across the page, in what didn't appear to be doodles.

_Alternative energy, well, that is a bit of a topic for America, so there is a chance this would interest him…maybe he's got some stupid idea…_

"In conclusion, I believe that we should look into other ways of getting energy in the future, such as solar und wind energy. Does anyone have anything to add?" The German now looked round the table as he sat down and America was the one to nod his head, and he stood up.

Everyone was collectively regretting Germany's offer of discussion, waiting for the Robots and Ninjas that were about to be introduced into the conversation.

"I think it is an excellent proposition, but I also believe we should keep in mind the costs issue and the pros and cons of switching over to these different energy systems over the coming years. Solar panels are quite expensive, and many people complain about wind turbine noise and how they kill birds." As Alfred sat back down, the entire room was silent. Germany hesitantly nodded in acknowledgement and Romano whispered to Spain something about an "exorcism".

Arthur merely stared. He, like a few others, had seen America in his intelligent moments, which usually were only during times when Alfred was dead serious or playing jeopardy, but he was surprised by this sudden change.

The meeting went by uneventfully, and the group got more done than they'd ever done before, America now a real participant, and that shocking everyone else into compliance.

As the meeting came to a close, Alfred stood and gathered his things, and got up without a second word besides a polite goodbye to the countries leaving around him, many who were trying to figure out the American as he walked into the hallway. Arthur, used to Alfred taking forever, used to waking the boy, or simply having Alfred wait for him, quickly grabbed his things and ran after him.

"America! Wait!" _America _heard the accented voice call from down the hallway, and grimaced. The Brit was kinda annoying…everything about him was getting on _America's_ nerves, and he wondered how the imbecile Alfred had ever fallen in so called "love" with this man. He remembered what his boss had told him, though.

"_Arthur is important. He knows Alfred inside and out. He will be one of, if not the first, to send off the alarm if 'Alfred' is acting strangely. Do not call him England unless he prompts it with 'America'; act as if you care, but also slowly distance yourself as quickly as can appear natural. Once the split is done, you may openly show your distaste for him. But remember, SLOWLY distance. If there is trouble, start an argument. Arthur is very defensive, and will fight over almost everything." _

He slowed down, and the Brit caught up, huffing, slipping his hand into _America's_ bandaged hand, causing _America_ to wince and Arthur to look down.

"My god, your hand! What did you do to it?" Arthur lifted his hand tenderly, when all _America_ wanted to do was jerk it back and run far away from the Englishman who was so pesky.

"Burned it this morning, knocked over my coffee." Once again he forced the obnoxious smile out easily, and Arthur seemed to accept his answer without a second glance, instead quietly chuckling.

"Ah, Alfred, I see you are still as clumsy as you were all those years ago, but that was what I fell in love with." Arthur went on his tip-toes and touched his lips to _America's_, who was trying not to shove Arthur away, and trying to play his part as the loving boyfriend, bringing himself to press back, before pulling away with a sigh, trying to quickly hide his look of disgust.

"Alfred, luv, what is wrong? You…you were paying attention to the meeting and participating. You never do that unless you have to. And you didn't wait for me…is everything ok?"

Here was _America's_ chance to begin the distancing.

"My boss thinks that I have been slacking for far too long, and wishes me to pull my own weight. He says I need to focus more on my job than my personal life. That means working longer and harder, and no more fooling around."

Arthur nodded. "Yeah, most bosses try that at sometime or another. Now, what was this about wanting to go to a game this…"

"I can't, I just told you, my boss wants me to cut back on my social time, so we're going to have to cancel that!" _America_ watched Arthur's face fall a bit.

"Oh. That's too bad. Your boss, he's still relatively new, I guess, so I can see how he wants to try to get you to do more paperwork, but he'll learn, they all do, about trying to force their nations to do more work. I mean, the Italians just let Italy be, seeing as he doodles over everything. Some of us are just more responsible about paperwork and meetings than others." _America_ immediately had a frown on his face. This Brit certainly knew all his buttons to press.

"Are you saying that _I'm _not responsible?"

"Well, you skip meetings due to having overslept after a video game marathon with that stupid alien of yours and…"

"I'm not the one who ditched a small colony to start a useless cat fight with that pansy, France." _America _felt the anger rising. _Not responsible?_

"Hey, I recall it was a certain Colonel Washington who started that one!"

"DON'T GO DISSING THE FATHER OF MY COUNTRY!" _America_ turned and stalked off, having long thrown off Arthur and his annoying personality, and walked out of the white house and down the steps to where Alfred's car was still in the driveway from before he'd walked to meet Arthur at that coffee shop, hopping in and setting his course for a certain mental hospital in West Virginia, gunning it all the way there.

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><p>Alfred had been released back into his room after the television in the viewing room had shut off as Alfred watched Arthur kiss <em>America<em>, his heart now starting to hurt. Arthur had looked so lovingly at his clone, and the two of them had been holding hands even though Mr. Labcoat had said that _America_ had distaste for Arthur. Maybe that had been only to play with Alfred.

_America_ had come back to this place, where ever in West Virginia he was, and had decided to use Alfred as a tied up punching bag. The clone seemed to have serious anger issues, and as Alfred felt every fist, he knew that this wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

As _America _would hit him, he'd go on and on about how Alfred was a dumb shit, about how he'd been a disgrace to his country, and how he wasn't going to be missed. He yelled of how he was already changing things for the better, that Alfred wasn't needed anymore.

"They won't need you anymore, either, once they have a more chemically balanced and accurately scared version of me. You only have the power you have now because you are what they have to work with right now. Me, they need for DNA, you, nothing it keeping them from getting rid of you but the time it takes to develop a new clone." Alfred had watched his clone grow red with anger at the statement, and although, in the end, it was more troublesome for him, he'd basked in the triumph of upsetting _America_ and starting the seeds of doubt.

After three more days of being here, though, Alfred was starting to wonder if anyone truly realized he was gone. His clone had dived into work, and now came around less often, although Alfred's bruises had not yet faded. The other countries had gone home. No one was looking for him.

And if no one realized that the America they saw wasn't who they thought he was soon, there was a great possibility that he was never going to get out of this; that he would be stuck sitting next to Brett at the least crazy of the tables, eating jello.

The jello was green. Emerald green, like Arthur's eyes, the only food he found any will power to eat. The other food made him queasy, and he noticed he was starting to lose weight, but hadn't lost all of his appetite…yet.

Brett was pretty sane for the most part, loved to chat away about anything and everything. Alfred was so bored, and Brett had been the one to single Alfred out, the others in the room being the guy who constantly was twitchy and would throw stuff around the room if anyone mentioned the government, yelling that they were after him for the secret to cold fusion; the woman who was chatting with no one, and about seven others, most anti-social, and one who kept banging a spoon against the table, constantly.

"When I get out…" _Sorry, Brett, but that isn't going to happen anytime soon._ "I'm going to take ride in my boat." _Oh_, _wasn't that crazy at all! Maybe he isn't as..._ "My swimming pool is great! We even pumped out all the water, so it'll be perfect for boating!" _Easy come, easy go. I'm alone in sane-land once more._

Slowly, Alfred was losing hope, eventually his hair beginning to dull, his body growing pale, covered in bruises from his clone, his clothes hanging off of him. He didn't talk much, and eventually started to just lay in bed for hours on end, staring at the ceiling, trying to wish himself out of this hell.

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><p><strong>Reviews are love! They are my motivation!<strong>

**Fun Fact: Cell phones are actually two-way radios**


	4. Chapter 4

**Here you'a go'a. Hetalia, she's not'a mine. Watching NCIS while trying to type story and author's notes is hard. Thank you all the reviewers!**

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><p>The President walked down the hall, tying the sash of his robe, sighing at the late hour, grateful to have finished his work for the day. How he'd give anything just to get into bed with the Mrs. and sleep for the next three days non-stop. But he stopped at the sight of a light down the hall. Alfred.<p>

He sighed, and shuffled down the hall, trying not to imagine the feel of the comforter upstairs. He knocked a few times, and heard a grunted "Come in".

Alfred was sitting at his desk, his glasses hanging low on his nose, his head hung over paperwork. The lamp beside him flickered a bit as he looked up at his boss.

"Alfred, you've been working on paperwork since seven, and it's one in the morning. Go home, or the spare bedroom. You will get sick!" The president rubbed his sleepy face absently, watching as Alfred put down his papers and finally direct his full attention to his boss.

"Can't. Need to finish. That's why I'm here. I gotta show everyone I'm responsible, that I can do this." The blond man sighed.

The commander in chief walked over to Alfred and set a hand on his shoulder. "Yes, but I'm sure that showing you're responsible would be to take care of yourself. You've been working harder than I've ever seen you work before. Has something happened?"

_America's_ mind immediately went to the conversation with Arthur. _Some of us are just more responsible about paperwork and meetings than others…_He'd show him responsible! Then a nagging doubt popped into his mind. _You're just a clone, and your power only lies in the fact that they've no one to replace you right now. The only thing between you and the door is the time it takes to make another, more balanced clone that succeeds where you fail…after all, when has there been a confirmation of security for you? Alfred may be a dumbass, but he has some good points. I have to do well! That is why I must do way more paperwork than Alfred ever did._

"Arthur…he questioned my level of responsibility towards my job. You see, I recently have realized that I don't pull my own weight, but when I tried to explain it to…"Iggy", he didn't understand. So now, I have to show him." The President sighed, and squeezed Alfred's shoulder.

"Arthur will understand in time, I'm sure. He's always been reasonable about these kinds of things. I heard you two yelling at each other. Don't ruin what you have while trying to make it better. Now, go home. You need your sleep." _America_ sighed, but complied, grabbing the bomber jacket and a pile of papers, stuffing them into a folder and heading for the door. "And Alfred?"

_America_ turned at the name, "Yes?"

"Arthur and the prime minister are coming over for a meeting in a few days. I don't want this argument you two seem to be in get in the way of work."

"Of course not. Private life and work are two _very_ different things."

The President smiled sleepily at _America_. "Good, you'll be going to pick Arthur when he gets here and take him out for coffee before the meeting. It'll give you time to talk, seeing as the Prime Minister seems to be worried over you two." The smile dimmed off the president's face, his memories of how Alfred would have brightened at this, smiled, at least thanked him, but the blank expression showed Alfred didn't really enjoy the thought of this errand. "Arthur seems to be moodier than usual, and you have been avoiding his calls, apparently. Is everything all right? Is it something extremely private? Is it due to public opinion? Are you all right?"

_America _inwardly smiled, realizing a chance to make the up-coming break-up seem more… natural. "I…I am becoming less sure of my feelings for Arthur. Less and less does he fly into my thoughts and less and less do my thoughts fly to him. I don't know how to talk to him, and every moment near him, I can feel the awkwardness growing." The President slowly nodded, showing his hesitant understanding. The tired lines of his face multiplied his sad expression.

"That's—that's too bad, Alfred. I thought you two were one of the most stable couples I've ever seen, and even long distance! You have been together for longer than most marriages, and were always still so passionate, so young in it all. I thought you two were going to be 'til the end. I'm very sorry for the two of you, and I think you should tell Arthur sooner or later, help to show him that you want to still be friends." The President sighed as he watched Alfred nod and head out the door. Now he wouldn't be able to get a good night's sleep, thinking of how horrible it was going to get in the next few weeks, and wondering if yes, love was forever, like everyone said it was.

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><p><em>America<em> looked across the table at England, who was awkwardly drinking tea, and trying to meet _America's _eyes at the same time. _America_ sighed as he felt a headache coming on.

It was a lot of pressure serving two bosses, both with slightly different wishes. Both wanted him to do his job, one wanted him to end it with Arthur, the other trying to make him discover love all over again, saying things like "just wait until you see him, separation makes the heart grow fonder" and "analyze how you feel while he's in your arms". One wanted him to assert his place as America and become the representative, body and soul, and the other was hindering him, asking him occasionally if he was ok, if he was getting stressed out, mentioning lab 401 and how it was officially closed, and that with no activity, he should calm down, even tell Arthur if it would get something off his chest and remove awkwardness.

Arthur meanwhile was watching Alfred very closely, feeling that first hug at the airport, which he'd initiated, and Alfred had ended, and that he'd not felt any of the usual warmth. Something was up. "Alfred, Luv, what's wrong? I'm sorry about that stupid argument we had, but we've never taken so long to make up. Did I somehow cross a line? Why won't you answer my calls?"

"Arthur, I have been really busy these past few days, and I…it isn't working."

"What isn't, Alfred?" _America _sighed. He was going to end this. He couldn't handle this annoying Brit much longer.

"We seem to be having argument after argument without an end in sight."

"Alfred, Luv, you know those are just hurdles we have to overcome. We always have argued. But something's up. You've changed somehow…" _America_ felt himself stiffen. _Arthur knows Alfred best. He will be one, if not the first, to set off the alarm if "Alfred" is acting strangely._ "Each hug, it seems like you are holding me farther and farther away, and they get shorter and shorter. And you've stopped kissing me altog—" This Brit was getting on his nerves, and yes, the hug thing was true, seeing as even the Brit's scent turned him off. But right now, he just wanted to simply shut the Brit up. Didn't kiss him eh? He'd give him a goddamn kiss.

He reached over the table and roughly grabbed Arthur's collar and slammed his lips harshly against the Brit's, who yelped at the painful action. He then shoved the smaller man back. "_We_ aren't working." He stood and walked out of the coffee shop, the very same one Alfred's DNA had been taken from. His_ birthplace,_ in a way.

* * *

><p>The meeting was very tense, Arthur sitting very straight and very pale, and he didn't say a word besides a hello to the President as he sat down.<p>

The meeting was cut short as both leaders realized the distress coming from England, and the hatred coming off Alfred.

As the meeting ended, Arthur ran out the door, heading back for his hotel, and the Prime Minister pulled the President aside.

"We didn't hit on all the topics I wished to hit on, and I know you are going to make a trip overseas soon. May I ask that _Alfred _not attend? He will be neither needed nor welcome at this next session." The President agreed, and they continued down the hallway, _America_ having been on the other side of the wall, and having heard everything, sped out the back door to his car across the green lawn, and he quickly climbed in.

As he ran into the mental institute, he made a beeline for where Alfred's room, and tugged off his belt, wielding it as a weapon.

"I try so hard, work more than you ever have, and yet why can't I ever be as good as you ever were in their eyes?" He knew he'd somehow messed all this up, played his cards wrong, but if it weren't for Alfred, he wouldn't have had to deal with this.

He struck Alfred again and again, receiving no response from the thin, pale man who lay there in the bed, making him angrier. He dragged up the man by the shirt, and shook him around, but all he got were blue eyed glared. Finally, he lost it, and simply threw Alfred across the room, and the wall behind him was painted red. Alfred wheezed before falling unconscious, and as _America_ stood up, nurses ran in, and he walked out from the room, not looking back once.

* * *

><p>Arthur walked as quietly as he could through the White House, looking for his coat he'd left behind. He didn't want to meet anyone, especially <em>him<em>, but as he spotted the coat, he ran forward, grasping it under his fingers, and trying not to immediately run and back down the hall. As he did turn around, he came face to face with someone else.

"Arthur, so you came for it after all." The President was smiling sadly at him. Arthur then couldn't take it.

"Do you have any idea what went wrong? He…he was so normal before the meeting two week ago, but…" Arthur could feel the tears leave his eyes, although he was doing everything to hold them back.

"Yes, I have no idea what's come over him…He's changed, he's somehow got it in his mind that you don't think him responsible, which suddenly changed to him…er…falling out of love with you."

"It's almost like he's a totally different person with the same face, same memories. Like an evil twin you always see in TV shows…"

"A totally different pers—" Arthur wiped away his tears as he watched the President's face go from sad to pale.

"What's wrong with Alfred?"

* * *

><p><strong>Hey hey! Fun Fact: Ramses the Great lived into his 90's, and ruled the longest and most successful of any Pharaoh Egypt ever had. His first born son also passed away mysteriously when he was in his mid 30's, during the traditionally thought time of moses' exodus, and not as a child as most allude to.<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

Ruth had been hired at Oak Hills four years ago, right out of school, on an internship which became a full nursing position soon after. She had always felt the need to take care of people, and these people, well, she'd had a relative who'd been mentally… well, the man had had the maturity of an eight year old, and for many years, had been her best friend until his death when she'd been in the fifth grade. He'd been sweet and caring, and when he died, he'd been in his mid seventies, older than her grandfather, yet more in tune to her than any adult, past or present. Ruth had cried harder than she ever had before.

Growing up, she'd always heard of these institutes, and how many abused their patients. Her grandfather and father had always made sure that there was always a place for her friend, knowing what could befall him there. She had promised to change that tendency of cruelty for others who weren't as lucky, or at least try to make them better in some way.

She should have recognized the warning signs when Oak Hills was bought by a faceless parent company, and the nurses all either left or complied with the new bosses. Ruth would have been one of the first to protest, but she needed to be here, with the people here, and not worrying about what the lab coats were doing in the basement.

One patient was currently causing her a lot of worry.

One morning, she'd come into work, and there had been a new face, a man walking the halls, getting his balance, stretching and talking with the scientists who'd been working in secret in the basement of the institute. He'd been a handsome boy, about in his late teen years, blonde hair, and serious blue eyes. The man had a temper, which flared over the simplest things, so she'd assumed he was a new patient. Then, she came in a week later to find the man walking out the door, glasses on his face, and a new wardrobe on his toned body.

She'd gone down to bring a group of patients to the mess hall, only to be called to pick up a charge from wing A. Wing A hadn't had a patient since once of the top celebrities had gone off her rocker a few years ago. Wing A was a top-secret sort of wing, the kind where they hid the most important of patients. But why was she to take this top-secret patient into the less secret dining hall?

The man had been an exact clone to the one she'd seen in the hallways, except for the few bruises that graced the man's face. His eyes, she had noted, were also different. The pain in them was enough to move Ruth to near tears. She hadn't said a word, though, and had done her job with a tender hand.

"He said he loved me…yet he can't even tell the difference between me and the imposter. No one will come for me, I'll be here till I die." She wheeled him through the halls. What did he mean? It might be babble, a movie line. She simply offered a bit of encouragement.

"I'm sure there are people who love you very much. And if you do what the doctor asks, things will be good for you, don't worry." She looked on his chart.

Jones, indefinite quarantine.

No note of his diagnosis, no personal info besides part of his name.

She looked back at the man, who had his head down, tears running down his face. "Who is he?"

Mr. Jones was certainly an interesting case. He seemed perfectly sane in all the times she'd been near him. He was polite, thoughtful, and generally responsive. At least, he had been in the beginning.

He'd talk about how he loved a man named Arthur, and had hidden something from him to keep him safe, but ended up having it backfire onto him, and so he was stuck here, and no one knew. The only part she didn't quite believe was the thing he claimed was behind all this. The only thing that seemed crazy.

"The man, the one who looks just like me, well, that's because he is a clone of me! I swear, it's true!" Clones, now everyone knew there was no such thing as cloning. Science hadn't developed that far, Ruth concluded. But Mr. Jones would not be persuaded otherwise. The other man probably was a twin, here for a study on twins and insanity or something to that effect. Clones?

Eventually, Ruth discovered that Mr. Jones wasn't eating much, that he was gaining more bruises as the old ones faded, and was slowly closing up on himself. She'd walked down a hallway when she'd heard a ruckus in his room, and had thought that maybe he'd gone into a fit, and that he needed to be restrained. Instead, she watched his twin throw him against a wall, before storming out. That was the day she realized something was very wrong. It was also the day Mr. Jones stopped talking.

She had watched over the past days as Mr. Jones had dulled, but had seen it before, and had been waiting for it to equal out, for him to accept his condition as a mental patient. After all, he wasn't the first person to freak out about this sort of thing. But he'd started to only eat green jello, only speak to her, thin out, get very pale, and be constantly cold, shivering in his white slacks and turtleneck he'd been given. But as he lay there on the floor, the marks of a beating all over his body, she felt her heart call out. Hadn't this been what she'd always been trying to prevent?

Ruth bandaged him up and left some food on a tray for him, the green jello the only brightly colored thing in the room, Alfred's skin almost as white as the clothes he was wearing.

That was the day Ruth started to make secret, anonymous phone calls to different agencies about abuse going on at Oak Hills, and had started to look for information on A. Jones in the database.

Nothing. It was as if he didn't exist. As if he wasn't just down the hall. As if he'd been wiped away.

* * *

><p>Arthur watched as the President sat down heavily in a chair, his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking.<p>

"What is it? _What's wrong with Alfred?"_ Arthur received a sigh in response. After a moment of silence, the President stood. He beckoned Arthur to him, and started down the hallway. They arrived at the door to the oval office, and Arthur stood outside as the president went in and rummaged through his desk before pulling out a folder and handing it to him.

"You should see this." Arthur scanned the pages quickly.

_Alfred Jones' DNA…productivity…clone…violation…termination._

"They wanted to _clone_ Alfred? For productivity? Sounds more like creating an army of gits to do jobs that one git alone couldn't handle…" Arthur was trying to see where this was going, but was trying not to admit was in his mind.

"It makes sense, if they didn't find nearly as much as they thought in the lab, that they might have had a second hiding place to store all their work after we rejected their proposal…but when could they'd of made their move?"

"So…you didn't stop them? What does this have to do with Alfred's behavior? Is this causing him to go off the wall with stress, to act so strangely? What do you mean by move, this can't possibly be real!"

The President sat there, thinking, when a thought popped into his head. "He said he was going to clean up the conference room, but when the maid had gone in there the next morning to do last minute cleaning, she'd found the room even messier, a box having been dumped in the middle of the room, and the electricity not working…I'd thought he'd broken something and had fled the scene, or had gone home, but what if…" That was right, that had been when Alfred had started acting up.

"So, wait, this is real? You mean to tell me that…Alfred's been cloned? That is preposterous! Why would someone want to switch out the nation…oh my god…if that creature isn't Alfred…then where is the real Alfred? And think of all the confidential information the clone would get access to! And if they can clone one…they can clone all nations! Why wasn't I informed of this earlier? Did Alfred think this was some sort of joke? If this is real, then…Alfred is missing, possibly…d—dead…" Arthur quickly started voicing all his thoughts in a panic, gripping his hair, pacing back and forth. Why was this happening? This couldn't be!

"Arthur! SHH! You're yelling! Calm down! We aren't even sure that this is really what is really going on. We have to figure out if this is really a clone, so I'm going to force "Alfred" to spend time with you as much as I can manage. If it really is Alfred…then I'll apologize in advance for the pain this is going to cause you, but we need to act fast. If this really is a clone, we need to rescue the real Alfred, the more time we waste, the less chance he's ok. And less of a chance to find a way to stop this."

Arthur nodded in agreement.

Either Alfred was lost to him forever, having fallen out of love, or he was being held hostage somewhere, hopefully still breathing. It had been a week since that meeting. Who knew what could have happened to him in that time.

So, one thing for certain. He had to figure out if the man was the genuine article. And he better do it fast.

* * *

><p><strong>And where have I been, you ask? A cottage. With wi-fi in only one spot, right near the water, in a really small space, which only my dying ipod could get. Needless to say, I shamelessly read smutty yaoi fics during those precious minutes of battery life. <strong>

**Fun Fact: Matthew Lewis plays Neville Longbottom in the Harry Potter movies. He has to wear a set of fake teeth and a fat suit while on set for his character. In real life, he's turned out to be the best looking guy on the set. Don't believe me? **

**http: / / images2. fanpop. com/ images/ photos/ 5200000/ Matt- Lewis- Neville- Longbottom- neville- longbottom- 5232157-300-250. jpg**

****Oh lordy, is he smexy...and the accent! And this wasn't really a fun fact.****

****Fun Fact: Doctors used to think one could cause insanity from too much masturbation. Yep. SOOOO much better than the first fact.****


	6. Chapter 6

**So, I took my own damn sweet time walking round NYC...chelsea, where our hotel was, is the GAY district...MY GODDDDDDD...so much...WONDERFULNESS!**

**And cross country is about to start...joy...**

**Sorry for being an ass and not updating sooner...**

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><p>To say <em>America <em> was pissed was an understatement. He was now, once again, sitting across the table from the one he wanted to see least. But Mr. President told him he _had _to spend time with the Brit, seeing as Arthur was close to some kind of stupid meltdown, and while he 'looks fine', just a little nervous, he's 'having an internal conflict', and when not in his presence, he's freaking out. Why the hell would anyone want to copy this country? Arthur was so annoying, and on top of that, very unreliable compared to _America_ himself. Or maybe, that was why the boss DID want to copy him, to fix him.

With this new attachment of Arthur came a flood of doubts to _America's_ mind. He'd inquired with his secret boss on his performance, and his reply hadn't been encouraging.

"_The only reason you are still America is that we have no other clone right now. You are the best thing for the time being, but once we have a new model of you, we will no longer be in need of your services. Do your job right, and I make sure to secure you a job and a comfortable lifestyle. And I give you freedom. But one more slip up with you, and I will not hesitate to make 'Alfred' go missing until we obtain this newer clone."_

"_What do you mean a new model of me?"_

"_One more stable, more intelligent, and less prone to flaring, violent tempers that you inflict on the base specimen, "Alfred". Yes, I've witnessed your actions. Although some violence is amusing, you need to learn restraint."_

So here he was, trying to restrain himself from simply getting up and getting the hell away from this Brit who was sitting across the table and sipping his tea.

"What do you want, Arthur?" He didn't try to keep the malice out of his voice, although something in his mind dinged. If he played his cards right, FREEDOM from all these people, Arthur, his bosses, Alfred, and he could be his own person. He could do great things for this country, much better than stupid paperwork…

"Alfred, I just wanted some company and to figure out why you had this sudden change. Have I done something to upset you?" Arthur's face would flash with pain at each harsh sentence "Alfred" threw his way, but he needed to know if this was truly his Alfred.

"I've told you already, I want to focus on my work, and I just don't think this is going to work out. I also think you are making this harder than this has to be. Arthur, if you believe that words are going to smooth this out, that forcing me to spend time with you is going to 'wake me up to feelings I'd believed lost', the answer is no. We're done." The venom in "Alfred's" voice was obvious, and his expression one of hatred. Arthur tried to look for his Alfred, but saw nothing but a very frustrated and angry man. If this truly was his Alfred, all he wanted to do was to hold him close, tell him whatever crisis he was going through, they'd work it out, together, whether he liked it or not, and that after that, he'd leave him alone forever. If this wasn't his Alfred, this man was an ass.

The supposed Alfred threw back his head and drank back his searing coffee with one hand, the other on the tacky table between them that was supposed to be one of those old metal kitchen tables from the fifties. Well, there must be some way to figure out if this was Alfred.

As Alfred set his coffee down, Arthur leaned forward, looking into the blue eyes he'd loved for as long as he could remember. The light he was looking for in them, the sign this was Alfred, wasn't there, but that didn't mean anything if Alfred had lost it and had become this hardened monster. He unconsciously moved his hand out and placed it on "Alfred's" clenched fist that wasn't holding the coffee, which the blonde was currently staring into instead of at Arthur.

_America's _eyes widened, and he yanked his hand back in disgust, but tipped over his coffee as he quickly recoiled, splashing the burning liquid back onto his tee-shirt he wore under his bomber jacket, the brown liquid staining the white cotton fabric.

"FUCK! Goddammit, Arthur! FUCK FUCK FUUUCK! It BURNS!" Arthur sat there, shocked as a barrage of cusses were thrown at him before the man across the table stood up and ran for the bathroom. Had he really just prompted such a reaction from the American?

He followed "Alfred" and opened the door to the bathroom quietly and slowly, watching as the familiar blond man was at the sink, trying to rinse out the stain before shrugging off his jacket and throwing it into Arthur's legs, although he had no idea Arthur was there. After a few more splashes of water, the man swore, and tugged off the shirt over his head. Arthur watched as the man's back muscles moved as he tried to scrub out the stain. But something wasn't right. Finally, "Alfred" gave up, and swore about how he'd have to go in a stained shirt to work.

Arthur picked up the man's jacket, remembering what he had set out to do. Find information. He slipped out a small square from his pocket and found the place in Alfred's jacket where the stitching always came out. He pulled a few of the stitches out, ones he himself had sown in, and slipped the square in, activating it, causing it to fuse to the fibers. How technology had advanced.

As the angry American turned around, Arthur dropped the jacket and slipped out the room, watching through a crack in the door. As his eyes drifted to "Alfred's" chest. A chest that would turn straight man gay, but something was different.

No scars.

Arthur walked quickly away from the door.

_America_ walked out of the bathroom, the stain subdued, but not his rage. He found the Brit who'd caused all this sipping tea like he'd left him, a bit paler perhaps, but still the same asshole he was. He gave him a glare as he shrugged on his jacket and walked out of the coffee shop, not even stopping to clean up the mess at the table, leaving that for the bastard named Arthur.

Arthur meanwhile, dialed a special number.

There was a click, and Arthur sighed into the receiver as the president answered.

"I slipped the tracking device into his jacket. No, he won't notice."

"_What did you find?"_

"It…it's not him…he has no scars…my god…" and with that, Arthur broke down. _Oh, Alfred, I'm so sorry…_

* * *

><p>Ruth went to bring some of the disgusting jello that seemed to be Mr. Jones' lifeblood. Walking in, she immediately felt her mood dampen.<p>

Mr. Jones lay on the bed, wrapped up in sweatpants, a sweatshirt, a blanket, and a hat, all white. Yet, he still shivered. The lack of nutrition was causing different systems to go on the whack…or to fail. She knew that Jones was straving himself. He'd stopped talking after the violent beating he'd recieved, and had retreated into his own world, his eyes growing dull, unresponsive, although the occasional tear slipped out. He would always stare into the ceiling, dead silent, and by now was beginning to blend into the bed, his face and hair paling and dulling as well from malnutrition.

She leaned down, and kissed his forehead as she left the tray, seeing as he was unwilling to eat. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Jones. I don't think you're crazy after all. Just trapped and alone. I'm sorry I can't help you anymore than this…" And then, she stood and left, but as she turned back, she watched him mouth the words "Thank you", before closing his eyes, and drifting into some sort of sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Fun Fact: There are people who live in the tunnels under NYC, with their own hierarchy. They don't go to the surface much. There also is the "Museum of Sex" in NYC. <strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**Ok, here it is. This chapter...dun dun dun!**

* * *

><p>Ruth sat down at the front desk with a cup of coffee and a newspaper, her break also being combined with reception, for the time being. She didn't mind, though, and tried to push away all her worries and concerns for the patients, one Mr. Jones in particular.<p>

As she opened to the "Local and State" section, she sent a silent message to whoever was out there above to send someone, something, to save a certain poor soul from the edge of death.

* * *

><p>Arthur sat in a small room with no windows, the only light coming from computer screens, or reflected off sunglasses of secret service agents. He moved to go and sit next to one of the computer specialists, one who was currently tracking where the fake Alfred was heading. There was a little red blinking dot to represent him, or at least the jacket.<p>

By the trajectory, the jacket was traveling in a car, heading for an out of state location, which was strange, considering Alfred's apartment was in the city, but now that he'd thought about it, the government had had that searched. They had found the space hadn't been used for over three weeks, and that food in the fridge had gone bad, a cell phone left on the counter, and a pair of tickets to a baseball game set for the day after Alfred had gone missing on the time line.

That had sent Arthur into another breakdown. He never used to be like this, used to be a pirate, sailing the seas, with a cold heart to match his cold eyes. Now, as always, anything that involved Alfred, made Arthur get highly involved emotionally. And the tickets, there had been one with his name on it, written carefully in Alfred's scrawl. The game they'd talked about going to.

He watched as the red dot slowed, before finally coming to a stop somewhere in West Virginia. As the computer services finalized the location, the name of the site popped up on screen, causing everyone on the team to pale at the words.

"Oak Hills Mental Clinic".

Arthur strode right out of the room, and headed out to a car waiting. They'd planned this all out. Arthur would go after the fake America, seeing as he would be a familiar face, and the fake America wouldn't dare touch him if he knew Arthur had told someone he would be there. And as a back up, Arthur had a special password to repeat after all this was over to assure them it was he.

Arthur would do his best to try and find the real America and possibly the fake one, and to press the alert pager in his pocket at that time. That would call the SWAT team that was currently assembling now as he watched the world go by out the car window. His jobs, find, alert, stall, retrieve. The SWAT would go after the fake and possibly anyone else who was in on this.

But the more and more Arthur thought about where the clone was, the more and more he half hoped Alfred _wasn't _there. He didn't know what kind of things were done to mental patients now a days, whether electric shock therapy was still used, or possibly if they were feeding Alfred. What if Alfred was so drugged up on mental chemicals, that he would never be the same. That was what scared Arthur to the point of tears.

After all he'd been through these few weeks, the harsh pain inflicted by a fake, it would be nothing compared to the fact that Alfred may never be the same ever again. And how could he be? What if they hypothetically _did_ give him overdoses of meds? Was there a chance that Arthur would never be held again by a laughing, happy Alfred, whose eyes were the color of sky, with a little bit of shine, a little light, like the sun in his sky.

What if he came upon an angry Alfred just like the fake? Or if he was simply permanently depressed. Or mad. Images of Alfred tied up in a straightjacket laughing like a lunatic flashed, causing Arthur to shiver. He was trapped in an insane asylum, after all. There was a chance that he'd gone insane in there.

He silently changed in the backseat, pulling off his coat and shirt in favor of casual visiting attire. Hopefully, the staff there wouldn't be on the look out for him. That was another con in him being the scout.

They pulled into a parking lot of the Oak Hills center, and Arthur waved the driver away as he climbed out, straightening his coat and brushing off his slacks before walking in, noting the fake Alfred's car discretely parked behind the dumpster in the back.

* * *

><p>Ruth looked up as a young man walked in, and she set aside her paper to attend to the visitor. They didn't usually come this early, and visiting hours weren't scheduled for today.<p>

"Sir, may I help you?" She noted him looking around the lobby, his eyes trailing over everything, as if he was looking for something hidden in the paint job. His eyes snapped up at her in the instant she opened her mouth.

She ended up sitting there, open-mouthed, looking into his green eyes, ignoring his huge eyebrows that everyone else stared at. No, his eyes were what shocked her. They were a piercing green, so unnatural, it seemed they would to better as emerald jewels than eyes. Or green jello...

"Yes, I was looking for an Alfred, Alfred Jones? I was wondering if he was a patient here." Ruth felt her heartbeat speed up, and she typed the name into the computer, coming up with nothing, as before.

"I'm sorry, sir, no Alfred Jones here. Could he have been in a different hospital? If you give me your name, relation, and number, I could make some calls." Should she tell the man about the Mr. A. Jones down the hall? Was that who he was looking for? Please…

"Ah, sure, my name is Arthur Kirkland, and, erm, I'm his…brother." There was an awkward laugh, and the man rubbed the back of his neck, his face looking as if someone had told him his dog had been hit by a car. "I live over seas, so I don't have a number to call right now, you see, because I never switched over to cell phones…heh," Arthur now was trying to find a way to not be too personal, and still have a reason to come back as soon as he could without too much suspicion. Alfred had to be here. Arthur didn't know what to do if Alfred wasn't here. "I could stop back in tomorrow…" As Arthur started to walk out the door, Ruth lost it.

"Sir! Please, wait!" She leapt from her seat and ran around the desk. She walked right up to him, very close, so the cameras wouldn't overhear her. "This man you're looking for, is there someone who looks just like him? A twin, a clone, whatever, but someone who looks just like him, blonde hair, blue eyes, very angry, violent? Because if so, we have one patient, who has no records on file, and just the name "Jones" on his card. He's been here for a couple of weeks."

Arthur's eyes flew wide open, and he latched onto Ruth's arm. "My god, he's here. Please, take me to him, I have to see him, I need to get him…where do your loyalties lie?" Arthur tried not to simply sprint down the halls, but to try to not throw all caution to the wind.

"My loyalties are to my patients. Not some boss. You're not Mr. Jones' brother, either, I assume, yes? He mentioned an Arthur before he sto—never mind, I'll let you see for yourself. Come this way, and be quick!" They ran for Wing A, Ruth avoiding all the security cameras as she went, her hand gripped firmly around Arthur's wrist.

* * *

><p><strong>eh, wrote this in 45 minutes. So tired...have to get back up in six hours for charity workCross country**

**Fun Fact: There are more people in NYC than in Switzerland**

**Oh, and for one of my other Stories, I got Fanart! http : / / akirayngwolf. deviantart. com /gallery /# / d46o6mp it is for my fic "The lion and the Wizard"**


	8. Chapter 8

**Yesterday was my 15th birthday. I ate sushi and pumpkin ice cream**

**This chapter is very stupid...**

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><p>They raced down the hallway, their shoes making slapping sounds in the empty corridor. Ruth would look to either side of her, looking for other nurses, often pausing to push Arthur back into an empty room. Finally, they came upon Wing A.<p>

She stood straighter as she pulled the set of keys out of her scrubs pocket, unlocking the door, which had a blocked window, before turning to Arthur, her hand on the knob.

"You are here to get him out of here, yes?" Arthur nodded, staring intently at the door. "Ok, but just to warn you, he may not be as you remembered." Arthur closed his eyes, exhaling, and nodded once more.

"I understand." Ruth then swung open the door, baring it open for Arthur, who pushed quickly in.

The room was a blinding white, the lights turned up, and for a moment, Arthur couldn't see anything but white around him. Then, he realized there was something on the bed. He looked closer, and realized it was Alfred.

He rushed to the bed, looking down at the closed eyes, the pale, sickly skin, the dull hair hidden in a white knit hat. There was a hand lying above the covers, thin and fragile, and Arthur clasped it in his own, for once of darker complexion than Alfred, after all these years. He held the hand to his face, looking down at the familiar face beneath him, which didn't stir at the touch. Ruth came up beside him.

"He talked about you, among other things. He kept pleading with me that there was an imposter, a clone, and that no one was ever going to find him. But you, he mentioned you the most. He was worried about you." Ruth smiled sadly down at Alfred.

"He's a stupid git, he is. He shouldn't worry about me. If only he'd told me…oh god…Alfred, what did you go through…and that bastard, how could I have ever thought that that fake was you…" Tears slipped from Arthur's eyes as he gripped the hand tighter, though the hand didn't squeeze back. Then, he remembered what he was supposed to do, and he reached inside his pocket, clicking what looked like a mini garage door remote.

Ruth looked on, but finally turned back around, receiving an expression of gratitude from Arthur as she left.

Arthur sat down on the edge of the bed, close to Alfred, noticing there was only a faint hint of body heat coming off America's body. Arthur ran a hand down Alfred's cold cheeks, feeling a very faint bump at Alfred's neck. A scar, one that wasn't noticeable, yet it caused Arthur to feel his heart soar. But as he looked back at Alfred, he came back down.

Pulling a picture from his pocket, one of Alfred laughing, holding a "football" as he called it, ready to throw it down the length of the field, his jacket swaying, his eyes aglow, his skin that sun-kissed tan. That wasn't the Alfred laying down on the bed, in some sort of sleep-coma.

This Alfred had been kidnapped, had been a prisoner in a mental institution, and now had wasted away to this shadow of a person. Closer inspection showed where bruises were healing, and as Arthur lifted up Alfred's sweatshirt and long sleeved shirt underneath, he saw sickening purple bruises done with more force than human hands could bring, perhaps a blunt object had been involved. He noted the sunken-in chest, the signs of starvation. It made him want to lose it all over again.

Finally, he sat back, Alfred's hand in his, and waited for the SWAT team to arrive.

* * *

><p>He was running down the hallways, having just seen Arthur on a security camera entering the building about a half an hour ago, and a black van pulling into the parking lot.<p>

He found the man in the lab coat.

"Sir, we've been found! I don't know how they found us, but Arthur's on the premises, and it looks like he's got back up!"

The man looked at him and pushed a gun into his hands. "I see they followed you. Go defend us from them, then. It was your fault they got here."

"That's suicide! I have a life to live, too, you know! You promised that's what I'd have! You mean you didn't plan for if they found us?"

"I didn't plan for such a stupid clone. By the way, did you really believe what I said about a life after all this for you? I have to say, you are just as naïve as Alfred. But if you _do _make it out of all this, I'll make sure your death will be as quick and painless as possible. Now, go defend our assets. Make sure they don't find Alfred." And the man ran down the hallway, grabbing different objects, stuffing things into bags.

The clone, now conflicted, having always done what his boss had said without question, always thinking it was for his good, now felt as though a parent had just told him he wasn't the favorite child. But, his training kicked in, and he ran down to Wing A, his glock 44 held out in front of him.

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><p>Arthur turned as the door to Alfred's cell was thrown open. There, the clone stood, the gun pointed not at him, but Alfred.<p>

"You little sneak." The man had composed himself into a mask of hate, and Arthur now regretted his choice to enter unarmed.

Arthur stepped in front of Alfred, his arms out protectively. "You won't get away with this, you know."

The clone laughed, almost insane, his face twisting into one of pain. "You don't think I know that? The jig is up, and I'm on the wrong side. So, I plan on doing as much damage as possible…this bullet might not go through the both of you, but I have more…"

The clone pushed the safety off, and moved his finger to the trigger. He began to squeeze, almost reluctantly, some part of his deep conscience yelling at him that this wasn't what a hero did, that killing was against his values. His closed his eyes, not wanting to see the impact.

"Wait! Clone, listen, if you, per se, were to put down the gun, and let us leave, I could help you…" The clone opened his eyes at the sound of Arthur's pleading tone.

"That is a lie if I ever heard one." Arthur noticed, though, the gun was lowered an inch or so.

"No, you know my influence. If I were to plead that you were also a victim, that you had no choice, they could let you off! And, as long as you are somehow clearly marked differently from Alfred, and remain under the watch of the government, we could put you through witness protection." Arthur's face became hopeful, and the clone just stared back at the Brit with surprise.

"Really?" Arthur winced at the tone, the one he'd been subjected to for the past three or four centuries. The clone was taking the bait.

"You know I think of you as a real person, no matter who you were created after. And everyone deserves a second chance. You've been put under so much stress, having to pretend these few weeks. I really feel you deserve better."

The clone was having a tough time trying to convince himself this was a lie, memories of when he…or rather, Alfred was small, and that same voice smoothing fears and tempers, with hugs and affection. That was what Arthur had been before the revolution…

The revolution. The images. The Clone snapped back from the edge of giving in. "No, you lie. You have no reason to feel that way. There's only one opti—"

Arthur slammed the clone against a wall, having distracted the man enough to move closer into position, and wrestled for the gun. A shot rang out as the trigger was pulled, sending a bullet into the opposing wall, near the door.

"Captain, down this hallway!" Arthur and the clone stopped, hearing the shouts of the SWAT team. Arthur was thrown aside as the clone threw open the door, and looked back with one more sneer.

"You bastard." And then he was gone.

The SWAT team bundled the two nations away for the nearest hospital.

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><p><strong>Hey, you guys should go check out my other story, the Lion and the Wizard, another USUK. It is my love child. <strong>

**Fun Fact: Pee is sterile, and is safe to drink. The dali llama recommends drinking a cup a day...ewwww**


	9. Chapter 9

**Guess how many days of school I've had? Almost 1! And now I'm one of the lucky ones with power, and no flooded basement...or house. "Worst flood in area history" is what the papers read. YAY IMMA ON A HILL! /shot...and I didn't even get to go to english, who's project was the reason I couldn't update lately. I wanna go back to school...**

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><p>He opened his eyes sluggishly, the light around him blinding, the world still the same blinding white. Or…maybe not.<p>

He opened his eyes and without turning his head or moving his body, looked around the room, scanning the walls, the ceiling, the clear doorway.

There was a vase of flowers over by the door, a mixture of flowers, none he could recall at the moment. Above the flowers was a painting, one of horses, some running across fields of green, others drinking from a blue river. A pretty painting, and one that confused him on exactly where he was.

The room was a beige, and there were papers, on tables and attached to the wall, but of what they said, he couldn't tell, the world vaguely blurry.

He then noticed blankets on some chairs, along with wrappers, cups and trays over in the corner, and a duffel bag on the floor. His stomach gave a little rumble, one of the first in weeks, and he couldn't help but think of food.

As his brain began to kick back on, he realized he was laying on a soft bed, covers over him, warm and welcome, his body only clad in a hospital gown, his wrists banded with armbands and an IV in his forearm. Had something gone wrong, and the Labcoat man had taken him here to see that he got well? Did they know that he wasn't really a mental patient? And who did the bag belong to, was the clone here?

Alfred didn't register any fear, just an interest in how they might finally kill him. He'd been waiting for the shot to the head, had been starving himself for quite some time. He'd long ago given up on living. Could he even speak anymore? He didn't remember the last time he'd thought this clearly…had they fed him finally, forcibly, to put him through more emotional pain than he could handle?

Of course, that was what the IV was for. Maybe, if he was strong enough, he could get away. Now, to get the IV out, and get down the hall…

He heard voices coming down the hallway as he began to tug weakly at the tube in his arm, and he closed his eyes quickly, assuming the position he'd been in a moment ago.

The door squeaked as it opened, and Alfred reluctantly closed his eyes all the way.

"Poor fella, looks like a stick. Wonder what they fed him." It was a young female voice. Not any of the nurses at the mental institute, and Alfred missed Ruth's soft, soothing tones that had reached him in that hell when no one else's could.

"Heard he's top secret, only those two men can see him. Finally convinced those two to go and eat lunch in the cafeteria. They won't stay away long. They're always in here, just watching him, waiting for him to wake up." Two men?

"Did you see one of them? Looked just like him! Of course, healthier, but they could be identical twins almost!" The clone…he was here, or currently at lunch. Alfred needed to get out of here, and fast. If he had any chance, he needed to get out, warn the others.

The two women did whatever they needed to do, cleaning up the room, one taking his wrist briefly, getting his pulse, and then left him alone once more. Perfect. He opened his eyes, and then struggled once more to pull the tube painfully, slowly, and weakly, out of his arm.

He slid off the bed in a tangle of covers, and landed painfully on the floor, more movement than he'd done in three weeks, his body protesting, but still capable of doing more than any human could possibly do in this situation. He groaned silently at the jarring of his bones, his knees sharply protesting.

He stared at the tiled floor, his breath coming out in gasps, the feeling of the IV fluid's loss making the cold begin to creep into his limbs again. That had been nutrition. He'd been out a couple days by how much shape his arms and legs had regained, and now he realized that he'd been dehydrated, and now with the loss of the water supply, who knew what would happen to his body. Shock, fainting?

He gripped onto the nightstand, and pulled himself up, his legs not able to really take his weight. It had surprised him that no alarm had gone off when he had gotten out of his bed. Maybe it had been turned off, seeing as he'd been pretty much comatose.

He peeked out the window of his room, and saw a pair of nurses walk past him, causing him to duck down, before pushing out the door once they'd turned the corner, before falling back inside at the sound of footsteps once more from the other directions. Alfred briefly contemplated trying to make it back to the bed when he heard a muffled voice.

"Do you think he's woken up yet?" They were back for him! Only one way to make it out this time.

He threw himself sloppily onto his bed, struggling, pulling, straining back under the covers, and feigning sleep. He was surprised at how much his body had healed in the days he must have been out. And if they took him back to that vile institution, all he worked for would be pointless.

Alfred had to get out, if only to warn the others. To protect them. Them and…Arthur. He'd thought a lot about Arthur as he lay there in the bed drifting between dreams and the real world. He wasn't really sure if this was a dream either, but he wasn't going to take a chance. After all, he'd already experienced a considerable amount of pain falling out of bed.

What if this was _all_ a dream, and he was laying next to Arthur, in bed, asleep? What if all the pain, the lies, the starvation, the desperation, the fact that Arthur had kissed the imposter, thinking it was him, having no idea that he'd been stolen away, had all been the creation of his mind?

He snapped back to the present reality as the door opened, and two sets of footsteps entered the room. If Alfred wasn't so hyped up on adrenaline, he wouldn't of had the energy to move from the bed at this point, his hands now beginning to shake with fatigue. But this had to be done.

One of the footsteps made its way to the side of his bed, he peaked open one eye. He saw the set of legs, and now waited for the right moment.

A hand caressed his face. Not cruel, not unkind, but gentle, almost mocking him with it. What did these men think they were up to? Were they trying to trick him into opening his eyes? Were they…making advances on him?

"Oh, Matthew, it's all my fault." Alfred's guard slipped for a second, his eyes flickering. That voice…it couldn't be…no…

"Arthur, you couldn't have known. I should have noticed there was a change in our connection. I should have felt Alfred's feelings, but with everything at work, I pushed them aside as my own feelings. I should have noticed them heading down directions I wasn't experiencing." Mattie's quiet voice echoed from the bottom of the bed, and Alfred felt hope rise in his chest, but tried to smother it. But it couldn't be a trick!

They didn't know about his connection with Mattie, how they could feel each other's feelings if they were to a certain degree, seeing as the clone would have been found out immediately if Mattie had been checking for it, and would have noticed a deadness in feeling. The sharing of feelings had always been awkward when one of them had gotten laid…more for Mattie at first than Alfred until Mattie had gotten a Prussian boyfriend. Then Alfred had had no idea what he was feeling, and the two had a very awkward phone conversation later that week.

Shaking the disturbing thought away, he finally allowed himself to believe that maybe, the hand on his cheek, was Arthur's.

"His IV's out of his arm!" There was a quick set of steps, and the sound of cracking joints as someone bent down. "And the covers are half off the bed…what if someone came in and…" Arthur sounded panicked, but Alfred was just happy to be in the same room as him.

"We should…Alfred?" Alfred had opened his eyes, not being able to take it any longer. He was met with green, Arthur looking directly at him. A small smile painted Alfred's face, and Arthur's tired, worried face transformed in relief. Arms were around his shoulders before he could blink, causing him to tense at human contact, but the scent of tea and fresh rain hit his nostrils, and he relaxed, not able to stop a tear from running down his face. He looked over a green sweater-vested shoulder to his brother still standing at the end of the bed, his long, curly blond hair not able to hide his expression of relief as well, and Alfred gave him a nod.

Alfred soon was reconnected to the IV, after weakly using his hands to demonstrate the fact, rather sheepishly, that he'd pulled it out himself. He ended up with a light bruise on each knee, and a rather scolding, mother hen Arthur, but he was content, even eating a little ground up hamburger, to the amusement of the other two men.

The clone, according to Arthur when Matthew was out one afternoon for a shower and a change of clothes, had tried to run off the premises, abandoning his boss who was now in federal detainment, awaiting trial. The clone, however, had been gunned down, a mocking smile forever on his face. Alfred took this all in quietly, something that was bothering Arthur to no end, but as Alfred gestured with his hands for a pad and pen, he still didn't mention it.

_Ruth_. That was what Alfred wrote.

"She was in to visit you yesterday. She'll stop by after her next job interview. I don't think she'll have any troubles, considering she has a letter of recommendation from your boss."

_I love you. I'm sorry._

"There is nothing to be sorry about." With a teary eyed smile, Arthur kissed Alfred, taking the thin, pale face in his hands. "I…I love you too, you git."

It was going to be a long recovery, but they'd be together for it.

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><p><strong>Is this chapter bad? I thought it was...and there will be 1 little omake...hopefully...oh god, the water in the tap has gone brown...<strong>

**Fun Fact: Smallpox and measles used to be horrible plagues in the time of the Roman empire. They killed Millions.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Huff...it is over. short really short chapter is short. Sorry.**

**I'm writing a new fic. AU, USUK PRUCAN. My friend, SocklessxinxSeattle (I came up with her user name, but no credit...) and I are working on it together. It is called "Give Me the Moon". Then there is my other fic, The Lion and the Wizard /no one comments on either one/**

**I get really...anti-writing-y when people don't review. I don't know, but when I see 200 people read a chapter, and 2 or 3 say something about it, well, it makes me think everyone else doesn't care, and didn't like the chapter. But whatever. it just makes the updates slower.**

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><p>Arthur got out of the cab, helping Alfred behind him, grasping onto the man's hand, giving him a little leverage. Two weeks had passed since Alfred had woken up, and he still hadn't returned to his original body weight, being on strict regiments, causing for Arthur much irritation as Alfred's appetite returned, having to constantly tell him, no, he could not have another slice of orange. No, milkshakes were only for those who weren't twenty pounds underweight.<p>

Alfred had gradually regained speech, although at first, it had been a struggle. Every time he wanted to speak, (and he did want to speak!) he would see a fist hurtling for his face, feel residual pain from his lower back, his head, remembering hitting the wall.

But as he came to accept the fact that there wasn't going to be a sneering mirror image of himself shaking him awake at two in the morning to tell him what a little bastard he was and give him a punch in the gut, he started recovering. His first word was also his favorite.

"Arr…tha…ur." he'd been making sounds lately, so Arthur had become used to noises coming over from the other side of the morning paper he was reading in bed, their hands intertwined between the two of them.

"Arthur."

Caught up with the global stance on the European Union at the moment, he answered back without too much attention. "Yes, luv?"

"Arthur."

"Yes?"

"Arthur!"

"What? Alf…oh." Arthur put down the paper, and looked over at a very smug Alfred. Arthur smiled, and kissed those smug lips. "I see now…sorry luv."

It all came quickly after that, new words being added. And Alfred was very good at steering around words or complex phrases.

Alfred stood up, and if he was embarrassed by the help he needed, he gave no sign, but Arthur knew otherwise.

Alfred was making his first appearance to the world only now, at the world meeting, now that he could stand on his own, and his language had almost fully come back, although "clone" was a no no. And Alfred had serious doubts about anything and everything. If he should wear his bomber jacket ever again, if anyone missed him, if he should do lots of paperwork to make up for lost time. He'd even gone so low on the self-esteem meter that one day, he'd asked Arthur whether or not he should apologize publicly about subjecting the world to danger at the idea and possibility that this could have happened to other countries, and that he would take full blame, this being entirely his fault for being caught and for not shutting the lab down successfully the first time.

To say it had been a bumpy road was a serious understatement. But Alfred and Arthur were making the best of it. Alfred constantly became overwhelmed by how caring Arthur had become, realizing that Arthur still loved him. Their relationship was stronger.

And as he and Arthur, after the meeting, walked into a familiar coffee shop hand in hand, he knew life after the other American had interloped was beginning again.

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><p><strong>My motivation for this story has been gone for weeks. But I still went to the finish, although a very short one. Sorry. complaints will be ignored.<strong>

**Fun Fact: you are 60% water. that all I got. so long, this story had a nice run.**


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